


Friendly Competition

by BigDaddySolas



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 03:51:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12696750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BigDaddySolas/pseuds/BigDaddySolas
Summary: Lavellan can't quite keep up with The Iron Bull in terms of strength and endurance, but what he lacks in those areas, he makes up with determination and unwavering concentration. Unfortunately, Bull's better at those things, too.





	Friendly Competition

Bull knew it was coming up when Lavellan had been joining him for strength training all week, and he all but grinned at the elf's smirk when it happened.

"You ready for another round, Boss?"

Without breaking their playful eye contact, Lavellan pushed the chair on his side of the table away. The main hall was empty this late at night, and Bull had been generous enough to sit and wait for him there until he had finished with his usual chats with those in the library. Might as well meet him halfway and save him the effort of walking all the way to the tavern to deliver a challenge in front of everyone.

Bull leaned forward from his spot in his own chair to lower his voice, fingers curled around an almost empty tankard. "Because it's been a while since your hand has been wrapped around me."

Lavellan rolled his eyes and scoffed. “All right, if I win,” he pointed at him, “no innuendos for a week.”

“ _If_. And when I win, I get to do double the usual amount.”

“Just to spite me.”

“Also because it's fun.”

“Fun to spite me.”

“Fun to rile you up.”

Their banter was light, the both of them having long found it easy to tease each other without having to worry if any hurt feelings might crop up. It was more than enjoyable to be kept on his toes in verbal back and forth, and if that playful, arrogant grin that always flashed upon the Inquisitor’s face didn’t send a swell of warmth through Bull’s chest to keep him interested. 

Lavellan settled in, feet planted apart, elbow on the table, and hand ready to grip Bull’s. “I'm going to win this time.”

He had never won, but Bull had a lot of respect for someone who didn’t give up even against immeasurable odds. Bull flexed some of his _immeasurable odds_ in front of Lavellan's face.

"Whatever you say, little elf."

Lavellan's expression went blank, smoothing out into what Bull had early on learned to interpret as the calm before the storm. It surfaced during predictable times: having to deal with too many ignorant people at once, when there was shit talk about the Dalish or elves in general within hearing range. It meant a slow buildup of angry pressure in that small body, sarcastic remarks squeezed out through clenched teeth, and--if the aggravation continued--a raised voice tempered with tears in his fiery eyes.

But it also popped up on the rare occasion when his height was brought up. He usually conceded being short and small, offering his own jokes about it in a good-natured kind of way, but when he continually got knocked to the ground during a sparring session, the playful taunts of his stature--completely meant to build camaraderie--would soon add to his frustration.

Riling him up meant more and less of a challenge. Lavellan would try that much harder to make Bull eat his words, but also that he'd be too worked up to concentrate properly.

Lavellan simply pointed sharply at him, giving the wordless command to knock it off. Bull kept his mouth shut, not bothering to restrain the amusement his face. He took his hand, both their palms rough and hard and scraping together until they got a good hold of each other to start. Even though Lavellan's hand was nearly engulfed by Bull's, Bull could feel the other's tiny fingers locking around him in a vice grip.

"Let's see if all that extra weightlifting you've been doing is paying off,” he taunted with a wink.

"Of course it has.” Lavellan smirked, puffing up. “Look at these arms.”

Bull nodded appreciatively. He could see lithe muscles outlined against the other’s ridiculously tight sleeves. Lavellan was deceivingly heavy and solid when it came to his small frame, able to lift the largest--and best--weapons they made and found, while Bull received his used ones. 

It was always entertaining to watch him try to match everyone else's strength by hauling around heavy objects, but the absolute best moment was when Bull caught him once in the far corners of Skyhold holding Dorian's entire weight up against a wall, the ‘Vint’s long legs wrapped around a slim waist.

The Iron Bull would have high fived him--high fived them both if he didn’t know they were trying to keep their relationship on the down low. Something about Dorian being a quiet and private man--which didn't make much sense since he never seemed to pass up the chance to open his mouth.

Speaking of which, when the door to the library creaked opened, it didn't take long before a familiar voice approached them. 

"At it again?"

Bull grunted in acknowledgment at Dorian's flippant greeting while Lavellan turned an eager expression to the other man.

"Say 'Go,' Dorian," he said with a smile.

Dorian raised an eyebrow at their antics, tired of having to be one to deal with them constantly encouraging each other to one up the other. He preferred not to be the weight they hefted around to show off or to be ignored in favor of the two posing and grunting repeatedly. But when Lavellan tilted his head in question, Dorian sighed in fond exasperation.

"No," he said gently, and Lavellan replied brightly,

“Close enough!” 

He shoved himself into the wrestling match, trying to get an advantage on Bull, who allowed his own arm to give a bit before tightening up. 

"Nice try," he said, using his strength to get their hands back to the middle. "The way you both worked together to distract me."

Lavellan didn't reply, his face turning pink from the sudden exertion. Bull watched as the other's lips worked around a quiet snarl, a glare focused on his trembling hand as if he could simply will it into succeeding. 

The hallway was silent for a moment. Dorian leaned his hip against the table, arms crossed as he glanced between both warriors.

"I don't see the point," he finally asserted. "This is clearly just posturing."

"For who?" Bull didn't bother look at him. "You?"

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"Then by all means." Bull sat back a bit to level out his shoulders, pushing out his chest in Dorian's direction. Lavellan tried to take advantage of that moment and push harder, but Bull locked his arm, bared muscles tensing further under the onslaught. Bull grinned. "Enjoy the show."

Dorian let out a scoff, but Bull noticed he didn't look away until a low growl caught both their attention. Lavellan was glaring at them, nothing irritating him more than the two of them sniping at one another everyday continuously. Worse was when they pretended it wasn't happening.

Bull addressed him casually. "Something wrong?"

"Oh, hush," he hissed, and Bull shrugged, adjusting to face him better.

"So, how's your day going, Dorian?” he spoke easily, making a point to show that--on the outside--he wasn’t exerting much effort. It was all about nonchalance and getting into your opponent's head. 

"It _was_ going well," Dorian said, staring off wistfully, his tone matching. "And it almost ended well."

“Yeah? What happened?"

Dorian looked him pointedly. "I stepped out here."

"Aw, don’t be like that." Bull showed his teeth slowly. "You know the boss has a soft and sensitive heart. It’d break if you kept talking like that."

Dorian rolled his eyes. "Tell you what, _Inquisitor_. Best this braggart, and I will be thoroughly impressed."

"That's what I've always wanted," Lavellan said breathlessly with a sly look towards Dorian. "Your starry eyes on me as I come out the victor."

"Of course you would,” Dorian replied in that way that showed he was fluffing himself up but that he was also quite taken in by the sentiment.

“Sweet,” Bull broke in with some affection but with no doubt at all that he was teasing them. “Real sweet, you two.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Lavellan groused, getting back to what was important. “Let's do this.”

Dorian sighed good naturedly and settled in to wait patiently, and Bull was serious for a moment as his competition threw himself into the match again. But it didn't take long before there was want for more entertainment. Bull didn't want the evening to end so soon without a bit more fun and he knew Lavellan wouldn't be registering well what they were saying, far too focused on winning his way into Dorian's heart and, more importantly, his pants. 

He tilted his head toward Dorian, catching his attention and lowering his voice into a gruff murmur.

“Smitten with him, aren't you?”

Dorian straightened up, and the way he tilted his chin told Bull that he wanted to look down upon him. “I could ask the same of you,” he replied evenly, and Bull jerked his own chin towards Lavellan.

“Of course I am,” he asserted. “Look at his strength.”

He leaned into Lavellan, making him nearly stumble as he grit his teeth with a desperate noise. The sound went straight through Dorian, if the way his eyes immediately snapped towards him and the way he began shifting was any indication. Bull pushed with a snarl until he was a few inches away from victory, and Lavellan fought back, a growl tapering off into a higher whimper as his arm and shoulder shook with exertion.

When Lavellan let out a ragged exhale, chest heaving and eyebrows screwing together in worry, Bull took quite a bit of pleasure in the way Dorian's lips thinned out and the way his throat worked around the sudden difficulty of swallowing.

He spoke a little louder than necessary. “Thinking of joining in?” Dorian didn't reply easily, which was surprising considering that was his forte, but also _not_ surprising considering he tended to get flustered when even slightly aroused. All he did was narrow his eyes, body tight, and Bull decided to help with the other's obvious confusion.

“Well,” Bull nodded towards Lavellan knowingly, “you're staring a little too hard.”

“You're going to pop his arm off,” Dorian stated, as if that were the reason his eyes were wandering.

“Have a little faith in your man, Dorian.”

“Perhaps when he ceases these silly competitions.”

“Naw, these silly competitions get your blood going.” Bull slammed his free fist against his chest a few times. “Why do you think he's so riled up when he joins a certain someone in bed?”

“ _Hey_ ,” Lavellan snapped. When he was met with a smug expression, he dug his fingers in with a huff. “You don't have to show off by talking so much.”

Dorian's eyes were narrowed. “I agree.” 

"As if you don't like a bit of fun," Bull said while eyeing Dorian, before raising his voice with confidence. "Right, Boss?"

Lavellan grunted. "Right."

The distracted, automatic reply made Dorian groan. "You're impossible." His narrowed look went to Bull. "The _both_ of you." He stressed it in a way that suggested Bull was the worse of the two, which, to be fair, was absolutely true. 

He turned away, doing his thing where he demanded attention but pretended he didn't care by striding a few steps away and waiting quietly while refusing to look in their direction.

It seemed that Lavellan finally realized what was going on, his eyes flicking towards him and staying on him even though his grip began to waver. Bull couldn't blame him; Dorian was easy to look at and he _was_ pretty. Mouthy and irritating, but pretty. It was too simple to get caught up just looking at him, and Bull enjoyed too much messing with him to get his attention.

He glanced between the two, and that’s when he noticed it--Lavellan's gaze was lower than before, lingering a moment--roving, really-- at where Dorian’s hip cocked in impatience. 

Bull settled in, smug, watching as Lavellan turned his attention back their competition. “Getting distracted?” 

Lavellan turned narrowed eyes from their strained and clasped hands to Bull's eye. “With what?”

“Your inevitable loss,” Bull suggested, grinning when Lavellan snorted and pushed further against the massive weight impeding his victory. He paused to take a breath and steel himself, tossing out another idea in an effort to throw him off. “With how late it is.”

“Don’t care,” came the clipped reply.

Bull shrugged up his free shoulder. "Then how about..." He leaned in over their hands, waiting until determined eyes shot up to his, then he lowered his voice like he was delivering a slow secret for Lavellan’s ears only. "How about Dorian’s _ripe ass_.”

And there--

Lavellan’s eyes widened in a flash, a confused noise bursting from his mouth, and Bull seized the opening to surge his weight to the side. The force of his heft was too sudden, completely throwing his opponent off balance with Lavellan letting out a terrific shout and tripping over his own feet to the floor in a tumultuous crash.

It took a split second of realization, of Dorian appearing at his side to crouch down to simultaneously scold and to gently take hold of his arm, before a shocked and frozen Lavellan fully reacted.

" _Cheater!_ ” he shrieked, sending Bull into a fit of loud, raucous laughter.

He stopped a moment later to get a better look of their Inquisitor's face, the elf's skin flushed a darker pink and bordering on red as Dorian helped him up. 

"Who even--!" Lavellan growled and pulled away to surge against the table at him, palms slamming flat upon it and shoulders squared off. “ _Who even says that!?_ "

Bull's appearance didn't offer him much leeway in looking innocent, but he liked to think he had the tone down. "You're telling me you don't think about it?"

The noises that came out of Lavellan were strangled and frustrated. One would think a hardened warrior who slaughtered people without batting an eye wouldn't get so flustered over a few choice sexy words.

"No! The way you described it! It's not--!" Lavellan's eyes flicked over to Dorian, uncertainty wavering there when he was met with a confused look. Bull could mess with the both of them all day, and they made it painfully easy with their transparent infatuation with each other. 

Lavellan pointedly glared at Bull, his voice lowering. "It's not a piece of fruit."

Of course, Dorian heard. And of course, Dorian questioned it. "What isn't a piece of fruit?"

 _And of course, Bull answered_. "Your ass."

Lavellan shot him a look of disbelief, as if he couldn't believe that Bull, of all people, wouldn't be absolutely honest. Integrity was on the line, after all.

Lavellan shook his head, incredulous. "How am I friends with you?"


End file.
